


Progression

by stupidinspaces



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidinspaces/pseuds/stupidinspaces
Summary: Sometimes, small events snowball into something more significant.





	Progression

At least _he_ seems to have done this before, Arthur thinks, trying to settle his nerves, watching Martin - no, Merlin - pull out glasses from his cupboard.

“Drink?”

“Please.”

Merlin ducks his head with a smile and Arthur feels something inside loosen up a little.

“I've only got cheap wine, is that alright?”

Arthur clears his throat. “Fine.” He reaches up to tug at the tie that is not there, smoothes his hand awkwardly down his chest instead.

“Student, you know.” Merlin smiles at him over his shoulder and shrugs.

Arthur can tell, from the way Merlin’s flat had been haphazardly cleaned, pieces of Merlin’s life everywhere: a scarf at the back of the sofa, books on the kitchen counter, remnants of an art project at the corner of the room.

“First time in a club or first time in a gay club?”

Arthur hears only part of the question, his brain having to catch up. “How’d you..?”

Merlin snorts. “People don’t just stop by clubs in a suit.”

Arthur looks down at his dress shirt, the tie he’d hastily stuck in his pocket weighing heavily in his trousers. He’d at least left his jacket at home. He smiles, feels self-deprecation settle. “Right…” 

It was his first time for either, actually. He’d always been curious about sex with a man, and post-breakup, after realizing you were unhappy in your career at 28 seemed the perfect time for it.

Consequences, Uther always said, determined the difference between a good and bad decision. Arthur hadn't considered the consequences at all, he’d only thought, _what the hell?_

Merlin makes his way over to him, hands him a glass full of red wine, returns to the kitchen to tidy some things. Arthur watches him from beneath eyelashes. He supposes he should have worn something similar to what Merlin is wearing: well-fitting leather trousers to show off his arse, a casual shirt...

You always overthink things, Sophia had said, one of the many things she’d thrown back in his face before walking out of their flat permanently. Early on in their relationship, she’d said how much she loved how careful and deliberate he was. Apparently there was a fine line between a beloved quality and it being the final straw to end a two-year relationship. 

Arthur clears his throat again, takes a sip of the store-bought wine, which he’d seen Merlin pour from the carton. He tries not to grimace, not when Merlin is staring at him rather intensely from where he’s propped against the kitchen counter. Red wine is repulsive. 

Merlin smiles, big blue eyes averted before he sets his glass on the counter. Soft and shy, it’s the smile that had made Arthur say yes in a spur of the moment decision. Impulsive, his father would have described it as; whimsical, Morgana would have called it. It would have earned a remark from Sophia labeling it stupid. 

“You know, I think it’s adorable,” Merlin declares, taking quiet, measured steps towards him until he’s settled on the sofa next to Arthur, their thighs touching. 

I’m not going to run, Arthur thinks, but appreciates it still when Merlin rests an arm behind him, enclosing Arthur against the arm of the sofa. 

Merlin moves in slowly, deliberately, keeping eye contact. There’s still time to reconsider, Arthur thinks, over the pounding in his ears.

Merlin must know the answer to his own question, whether or not this is Arthur’s first time, because he kisses him carefully, as if he’s fragile. It makes him feel vulnerable, but also taken care of. Merlin’s arms feel stronger and more capable than he’d anticipated when they wrap around him.

It’s far from his first kiss, but it feels like it, no clue where he should put his hands or how he should angle his head.

“Relax,” Merlin murmurs against his mouth, pressing close-mouthed kisses on his lips.

“I’m fine,” Arthur says and nearly jumps when Merlin puts both hands on his.

“Yeah, you’re really relaxed,” Merlin says, eyebrows raised, smoothing his hands up and down Arthur’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Arthur insists. “I’m just- I just need…”

“More wine?” Merlin suggests, softly, and whisks Arthur’s glass of wine in front of him.

\--

It seems a little dramatic to call a dick in his mouth a “revelation,” but Arthur figures whatever else is closest to that would be an accurate description.

After, Merlin collapses next to him, panting. It’s largely gratifying: Merlin’s murmured exclamations, the string of curses he lets out; and a little endearing: his wide grin at the ceiling.

“Arthur,” he says hoarsely, eyes closing. “That was fucking awesome.”

Arthur grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says and surges up to kiss him. Arthur tilts his head to the left, hand reaching up to Merlin’s neck, thumb gently brushing across his jaw.

The end of his relationship with Sophia is still recent enough that he compares this experience to what they had, and he decides that he likes the differences: how solid Merlin feels in his arms, his straightforwardness, how Arthur doesn't feel like he has to second-guess his efforts.

“Give me a minute and we can, again,” Merlin whispers against his mouth. It isn't, but it still feels like a declaration of sorts, and Arthur doesn't trust himself to respond with anything other than another kiss.

Later, after the minute of recovery, and the second round where Arthur learns the value of fingers, they fall asleep cocooned together: Merlin plastered to his back, planting little kisses on his neck. At the moment, it feels more than enough; more than he ever thought it could be when he said yes to a shy, hopeful smile under the dim lights of the club.

\--

In the morning, the uncertainty creeps back in. He’s never had a one-night stand before, all of his previous relationships had been arranged through his father or through the modern courtship of Facebook. 

He’s not sure how long last night’s invitation to stay extends. That Merlin had rolled away in his sleep further added to his uncertainty. 

Ultimately, Arthur decides leaving while Merlin is still asleep would be the least inconvenient for both of them.

He tiptoes his way around the room, picking up articles of his clothing, cursing the floor when it creaks - but Merlin only mumbles a little before rolling over again in his sleep.

Arthur sighs, makes his way over to the bathroom to change. 

In the mirror, he looks for physical manifestations for the way he feels, changed. Perhaps it’s in the unruly state of his hair, the wild flare in his eyes, or the purpling mark where his neck meets his shoulders. He remembers how Merlin sucked on it, scraping his teeth over the skin, and then remembers, the skip of his heartbeat when Merlin followed it with a chaste kiss.

He dresses hastily, splashes water on his face then steals some toothpaste to rinse his mouth with a finger. 

He barely makes it to the front door when he hears a pointed, “Going for the walk of shame then?”

Arthur turns, heart thumping, “I wasn't sure if I should wake you.”

Merlin shrugs. “Could have left a note.” 

Arthur’s stomach drops. “Sorry. I wasn't sure if you would have cared for one.”

Merlin sighs, smiles slyly. “I’ll forgive you this time, since it’s your first time and all.”

Arthur’s heart snags at his phrasing, “this time,” not sure how to pursue that thought out loud with Merlin. 

Merlin voices it for him anyway. “If you want, you know, maybe we could do this again…”

Merlin is leaning against the door frame to his bedroom, for all purposes as nonchalant and uncaring as could be, but his eyes have become guarded.

“I’d like that,” Arthur says, and it feels right to say yes to the invitation, though Merlin isn't smiling the smile that made Arthur say yes in the first place, last night in the club. 

Merlin smiles a different smile now, wide and genuine, open. Arthur can feel himself mirroring the expression based on the tug at his cheeks. 

It may prove to be impulsive, whimsical, perhaps stupid; but it feels right. 

Merlin pushes himself off the wall, smile not once sliding out of place. “Breakfast?”

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism appreciated!


End file.
